Times Past
by Larka
Summary: I watch, I plan, I wait. But is it enough? TimeTravel Harry to MWPP era. PreHBP
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to him or his story.  Anything you recognise, I probably don't own.**

**Times Past**

**Prologue**

I watch a fifteen-year-old try to convince a redhead to go out with him.

I watch a group of friends who never thought to leave drift apart and distrust.

I watch as a woman sacrifices herself for her only child.

I watch as the enemy is thought to be defeated.

I watch the celebrations.

I watch an innocent man go to Azkaban, yet it was I who condemned him.

I watch a boy grow up under the care of un-loving guardians.

I watch as the boy is shown a new world and friends.

I watch as he discovers his talents and defeats enemies.

I watch as a man comes forth from hiding.

I watch as another escapes the inescapable.

I watch and believe him about to murder his godson.

I watch and marvel and their gift for secrets.

I watch as a man is driven away through no fault of his own.

I watch suspicious circumstances yet find them normal.

I watch as an imposter comes yet do not realize the truth.

I watch as an innocent dies through my over-looking.

I watch as the boy emerges scarred, and lashes out at the world.

I watch as he organises, teaches, learns.

I watch as I am forced to leave and the ministry interferes.

I watch as the boy loses even more of his family.

I watch as the world of many falls apart.

I see all this yet I cannot find the truth.

I watch as people die.

I see it begin again.

I watch and try to prevent.

I am old, yet I plan.

I know what I must do.

But is it enough?


	2. A Peculiar Survey

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to him or his story.  Anything you recognise, I probably don't own.**

**Times Past**

**Chapter 1**

"Boy! Get down here _now_!"

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, re-instated star seeker of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and leader of the DA winced.  It didn't take much to give his uncle an excuse to take his anger out on him.  It never reached physical abuse, but Uncle Vernon was convinced that Harry (or another of _'his lot'_) had put a spell on Aunt Petunia, which clouded her better judgment and prevented him kicking Harry out.

Slowly Harry ventured downstairs.  Just two more days he thought desperately.  Then you'll be leaving here.  You just need to last today and tomorrow.  Harry pulled the letter out of his pocket a re-read it to confirm what it said.

Dear Harry,

Hope you are well and your aunt and uncle aren't treating you too badly.

GUESS WHAT? MUM & DAD SAY THAT DUMBLEDORE SAID YOU CAN COME AND STAY WITH US FOR THE REST OF THE HOLIDAYS!

Here there was a small rip in the page.

Sorry about Ron's interruption Harry.  Anyway, as you've probably worked out we're inviting you to come and stay.  We're at Grimmauld Place because the Burrow isn't safe enough.  We will pick you up on Saturday.  I don't know if Ron and I will be coming but we will see you soon anyway.

Love from,

                   Hermione & Ron

"Hurry _up_!" came the shout from downstairs.  Harry groaned and continued down to confront his uncle.  Looking up into Uncle Vernon's beetroot coloured face Harry asked "Yes Uncle Vernon?"

"What… is… this?" asked Vernon, breathing heavily and struggling to get the words out.

"Er," replied Harry intelligently.  "Um, well, could I see it?"

Uncle Vernon handed over the letter he had been clutching so tightly, his piggy eyes darting back and forth between Harry and the envelope as if it was going to explode as soon as his nephew touched it.  Reaching out, Harry grabbed the letter and examined it.  The front was addressed in the normal muggle way to

Mr.  & Mrs. Vernon Dursley

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging, Surrey

3635

Completely confused, Harry turned the envelope over to discover what had upset his uncle so much.  Although the back had a normal return address Harry's heart sunk when he saw that although the letter writer had made it extremely muggle-like, the had forgotten not to use the personalised Ministry of Magic stationary.  For along the base of the envelope it said 'The Ministry of Magic.  Protecting and Maintaining All Important Issues for All Witches and Wizards In Britain.'

Harry snorted.  'All important issues'?  Wasn't Lord Voldemort an important issue?  Yet when Harry had informed the Ministry of his return it had been scoffed at and not even considered.  At least one good thing had come out of the fight – Fudge could no longer deny Voldemort's resurrection.

The fight.  Sirius.  Cedric.  So much death and hurt all leading back to Lord Voldemort.  Neville's parents.  _Harry's_ parents.

"Well?"  Uncle Vernon's voice interrupted.  "Who sent this ruddy letter?"

"The Ministry of Ma-" began Harry.

"Don't you _dare_ say that word in my house!" yelled Uncle Vernon.  "Just say yes or no.  Is it from… from _your lot_?"

"Yes."

"Do you know what's in it?"

"No."

"Do you know who sent it?"

"Not personally."

"Fine then.  After all it _is_ addressed to me and Petunia…" Cautiously, he opened the envelope.

"Hello!  We hope you are well," said the letter.  "As you are the guardian of a magical child would you please take this survey."

"No!" snarled Uncle Vernon, glaring at the letter to make it shut up.  It didn't work.

"Name, please."

Harry's uncle ignored it.

"Name, please," asked the letter again.

Still it was ignored.

"Name, please," insisted the letter.

"Shut up-" bellowed Uncle Vernon.

"Name, please."

"Shut up!"

"Name, please."

"Shut _up_!"

"Name, please."

"Name, please."

"Fine," spat Uncle Vernon.  "Vernon Dursley."

"Spouse and offspring's names please."

"Petunia and Dudley Dursley," he answered dully.

"Name of magical child, please."

"Don't say that word!" yelled Uncle Vernon frantically.

"Name of magical child."

"Don't…" he trailed off, realizing how useless it was.  "Harry Potter."

The latter started, hearing his name.  Harry realized he should be using this time to creep away from his uncle, but it was far too interesting.

"How do you feel about You-Know-Who?"

"Who?"

"You-Know-Who."

"I _don't_ know who!"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Who the-"

"Lord Voldemort," interrupted Harry.  "You-Know-Who is Voldemort."

"Oh… right.  He's a nasty delusionist out to kill my nephew and he can't even do _that_ properly."

"Thank-you for taking our survey."

And with that the letter disappeared presumably back to the Ministry of Magic, or perhaps to the next muggle household.  Quickly, Harry also disappeared past his shocked uncle up to his room.  He resolved to tell Uncle Vernon about Ron and Hermione on Saturday, once there was nothing his relatives could do about it as he didn't feel like being locked in his room again, like he had after the 'pudding incident'.

This decided, Harry looked around at his messy room.  Once belonging to Dudley, it was filled with everything from broken televisions to bent parrot cages yet Harry's own belongings hardly filled the corner they were in.  Sighing, Harry rummaged through his trunk, searching for his photo album.  Although when he had first received it, it had had only pictures of his parents it now was filled with photos of everyone from Ginny Weasley to his third-year Defense teacher, Remus Lupin.  They however, were not the pictures he was looking for.  

Wishing he had a better photo of Sirius, Harry turned to the photograph of his parents wedding.  Staring hungrily at Lily, James and Sirius he wondered once more, what it had been like for them.  He had only seen them in a slightly biased penseive memory, heard them through Dementors and when he was less than one year old.  

Harry thumbed through the album, searching for any photos from his parent's seventh year, when Sirius had said they finally got together, but there were none to see.  Any photos with both Lily and James in them had Lily glaring at James and the latter making his hair look even more windswept.  Eventually he gave up.  

Seeing no point in sitting doing nothing he lay down to try to get some sleep.  But his scar still prickled, although he couldn't read Voldemort's emotions.  That was a good sign he supposed, but… but…

Slowly Harry drifted off to sleep.

**A/N: Well?  What do you think?  Should I continue?  _Please_ REVIEW!**


	3. Return to Grimmauld Place

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to him or his story. Anything you recognise, I probably don't own.**

**Times Past**

**Chapter 2**

Finally Saturday arrived and Harry prepared to confront his uncle about the invitation to Grimmauld Place. Both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had been horrified about the survey and had threatened to lock Harry in his room for the rest of the holidays. However, Harry knew this was an empty threat as it was highly unlikely that the Dursleys had managed to forget the Order's warning so easily. Steeling himself, Harry ventured into the kitchen where he was sure his relatives would be.

Peering through the door he once again reminded himself that no, the Dursley's had _not_ acquired a pet pink elephant over the holidays, and that it was just his bullying cousin, Dudley. After his encounter with the Dementors, something had put Dudley off his boxing dreams. Once his body was deprived of this exercise it had put on weight, forcing Aunt Petunia to order custom made knickerbockers for Dudley's school uniform.

Harry looked away from Dudley to regard his uncle. With greying hair and only half a moustache Uncle Vernon looked much as he did whenever something went wrong - beetroot and squinting.

Harry's only thin relative wasn't in the kitchen. Aunt Petunia was stick-like, with a long neck, perfect for staring over fences into the next door neighbour's garden.

Harry himself never seemed to fit in with his surrogate family, with his messy black hair and startling green eyes. However, his most shocking feature was a lightning bolt scar on his forehead. As was normal now, it was throbbing slightly; just enough to remind him it was there if he ever managed to forget.

Finally, the elder Dursley noticed Harry standing in the doorway.

"What do you want? If it's another form, you can forget it. If it was my choice you would be in an orphanage and certainly not getting extra benefits at your freak school," he growled.

"Actually it's not a form. I thought you might want to know that I'll be leaving today to see my friends. Hope you're grateful for the warning." He grinned at his uncle ad cousin, both who looked terrified at the even the thought of wizards. All relatives had bad memories of magic whether they were personal pig tails or balloon sisters.

Harry looked over his stupefied relations once more, before leaving the kitchen. Then he sat down in his room to wait… and wait… and wait.

Much later, Harry was still waiting. It was dark now and the Dursleys were watching a movie on the television. Just then, the doorbell rang. Harry perked up immediately and raced downstairs to answer it. There outside was Aunt Petunia.

"Wotcher, Harry," she said cheerfully.

"Tonks?" he asked. "Is that you?"

"Certainly. There are more people here too, and I'm just waiting for them to take the charm off." Nymphadora Tonks glared pointedly at an area to her right.

"Oh, right," said the patch of thin air. "Sorry."

Very soon it was no longer an empty space - it had shimmered to reveal three wizards - Remus Lupin, Arthur Weasley and Mad-Eye Moody.

"Hurry up, hurry up," the latter growled. "Tell them you're leaving and then let's go."

Harry shrugged and stepped back into the house. "Aunt Petunia? Uncle Vernon? I'm going now."

He heard a grunt, which he supposed meant fine.

"Er… goodbye then."

Hearing no answer he turned and went back to the waiting Order members.

"Got your trunk?" asked Lupin.

"It's just upstairs. I'll go get it."

"Don't worry," said Tonks. "_Accio Trunk._" Harry's trunk came bouncing loudly down the stairs. The witch grinned in apology.

"We'd better be going. With Dementors here last year, we don't know how safe this place is," said Moody, his magical eye revolving eerily.

"Hold on, what about Harry's owl?" asked Lupin.

"I just sent her with a letter to Ron and Hermione. Her cage is in my trunk. So… can we go?"

"Yes, Yes, of course," said Mr. Weasley who was peering vaguely at the doorbell. Almost reverently, he pressed it, listening with delight to the common _ding-dong_ sound.

"_Arthur_," said Tonks exasperatedly. "We're going now."

"Mm-hmm," was the distracted reply.

Lupin pulled Mr. Weasley away from the doorbell and maneuvered him towards the side of the house gesturing for the others to follow him.

Moody shook his head, pointing to a broomstick in the shadows. "I'll follow later. I need to check something first."

Lupin shrugged and picked up an old pair of rusty lawn clippers. "Tonks," he asked urgently, "what was the word to activate the portkey?"

"I'll say it. Everyone holding on?" After checking Harry's grip to both the portkey and his trunk, Tonks took a deep breath and said softly but clearly, "lemon sherbet."

Harry felt the typical tug behind his navel before he was jerked away. After a moment's disorientation, he looked around at his new surroundings.

He was on a hill, surrounded by many other hills, while in the distance was a forest. That was about all that could be said about the area. There was nothing Harry could find to allow him to work out where he was. The only familiar sights were those of Mr. Weasley, Lupin and Tonks, who was back to normal aside from her green hair.

"Er…" said Harry. "Where are we?"

"Did you go to the Quidditch World Cup?" Tonks asked. "'Cause this is near where it was held."

Harry stared at the countryside. If he tried really hard, he could compare it to the World Cup area but even then, only broadly.

"Here it is," said Mr. Weasley suddenly, holding up a branch which was almost the same shape as an old fashioned key. Lupin glanced up at Mr. Weasley, nodded vaguely, then looked a watch-like contraption on his wrist. Straining to see better, Harry saw an hourglass. The sand had almost run out.

"Come on," called Lupin. "We're leaving fourteen seconds, twelve, eleven…"

The other three rushed over, Tonks and Harry a bit slower than the Mr. Weasley because of his trunk, reached out and grabbed part of the portkey.

"Seven, six, five…"

"Hold on," said Harry, feeling a memory surface. "Didn't you say-"

Without warning, Harry was cut off by the portkey leaving. After the familiar sensation of magical travel, he found himself in an abandoned stretch of pasture, where the only sign of life was an old and rickety shed.

"Sorry about that, Harry," said Lupin. "What were you saying?"

"Last time you picked me up didn't you say something about not being able to create portkeys because of the Ministry? Because, well, that doesn't seem to matter now."

"Oh, _that_," answered Tonks. "Fudge _had _to give Dumbledore permission." She shrugged. "It didn't really matter anyway, Dumbledore would have just gone ahead even if Fudge hadn't authorised it."

"After all," added Mr. Weasley, "there was no way Fudge could pretend Dumbledore was lying and, if he had tried, he probably would have been thrown out of office."

Harry considered this as Lupin and Tonks wandered over to the shed and opened it with a charm Harry didn't recognise. They pulled out three broomsticks and came back over to Harry and Mr. Weasley.

"Harry, you still have your Firebolt, don't you?" asked Tonks.

"Yeah," he answered. "I'll just get it."

Harry wandered over to his trunk, which had bounced away when they landed. As he opened it he thought about what he had just been told. Fudge had backed down and was finally listening. From what Harry had seen during the holidays, the Prophet was no longer using him as a joke; instead, he was once again the Golden Boy of the wizarding world, the ill-treated hero. Harry opened his trunk and grabbed his broomstick, before slowly dragging the trunk back over to where Lupin, Tonks and Mr. Weasley were waiting.

"Ready, Harry?" asked Lupin.

"Yeah," answered Harry, "I'm ready."

"Let's go then," said Mr. Weasley.

The four of them pushed off the ground and rose until Lupin motioned for them to stop. While they were hovering, Lupin pulled out his wand, and sent gold sparks into the sky. Once that was done, he signaled for them to start moving again and off they went, with Tonks leading, followed by Mr. Weasley, then Harry and with Lupin bringing up the rear. Similar to last year they flew and flew until Harry was sure he was stuck on his broomstick for life. Although they didn't seem to be taking as many detours as during the last flight, Harry was relieved when they finally reached Grimmauld Place.

They dismounted from their brooms and stood at the fence that separated eleven and thirteen Grimmauld Place. Harry concentrated on what he had read last year – _The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London_. Number twelve expanded out, taking up previously non-existent space. Tonks stepped up to the door and knocked softly, explaining to Harry: "We still haven't been able to get Sirius' mother's picture down."

Harry nodded, his throat dry. Suddenly it seemed as if he could only call, and Sirius would come bounding down the stairs, grinning, eager to welcome Harry to the headquarters. Harry's joy at being about to finally see his friends again faded, as everywhere he looked in this house he saw reminders of Sirius. Glumly, Harry walked up the stairs towards the room he had stayed in last year.

"Harry!" he heard from behind him. He turned around, only to be almost bowled over by Hermione.

"Hello, Hermione," said Harry, smiling at her. "Hi, Ron."

"Hi, Harry," answered Ron. He grinned. "Least this time you only had to stay there a couple of weeks."

Harry grinned back. After all, he had to admit Ron was right. Unlike last year, this time he had been kept at least partially informed, thanks to Ron, Hermione and the Daily Prophet.

"I guess," he replied. Still depressed by all the reminders of Sirius, he added, "I'm getting up to bed."

"Oh – alright then... goodnight," said Hermione.

"'Night," said Harry, wandering over to his room. Once he got there he collapsed on the bed, pictures of Sirius swirling before his eyes.


	4. Occlumency

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to him or his story.  Anything you recognise, I probably don't own.**

**Times Past**

**Chapter 3**

"Wake up, Harry.  Wake up."

Harry grunted and did his best to ignore the voice that had invaded his subconscious.

"Harry, you need to get up." _Ron never knows when to quit_, thought Harry sleepily.  "Dumbledore's here to see you."

These words woke Harry immediately, but, in truth, he wasn't too sure that he wanted to see the headmaster of Hogwarts, even though – or perhaps because – the last time Harry had seen him the old wizard had been finally explaining why Voldemort was after him.

"Come _on_," said Ron, sounding rather impatient.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming," groaned Harry as he sat up, glaring at Ron.  "I'll meet you down there."

Ron shrugged.  "Fine.  You'd better hurry though.  He's in the kitchen." 

Once Ron had gone, Harry got out of bed and walked slowly down towards the kitchen, trying to work out why Dumbledore would want to see him.  There couldn't be anything more about his life that had been hidden from him, could there?  Lost in his thoughts, Harry wandered into the - almost - deserted kitchen.  Sitting in one corner was Dumbledore, eating bacon and eggs.

"Professor?" asked Harry quietly.  "You wanted to see me?"

"Ah, Harry.  I trust you slept well?"

"Yes, professor." Surely, Dumbledore had not simply wanted to see him to wish him Good Day.

"Sit down, Harry."  As he did, Dumbledore continued, "I need to speak with you about your Occlumency.  I know you do not get on well with Professor Snape and so, this year I will teach you.  But you must promise to apply yourself.  You cannot learn Occlumency unless you truly try."

Harry knew he was right.  If he had concentrated last year, there would have been no need to go to the Ministry of Magic.  No need for the fight; no need for Sirius to die.

Dumbledore peered solemnly at his student.  "Grieving is a natural reaction, Harry," he said gently.  "Just do not let grief and vengeance take over your life.  If that happens you may become as bad - or even worse - than the late Tom Riddle."

"Late?  He's alive.  Alive and happily murdering anyone who has the slightest relationship with me," said Harry bitterly.

"Are you sure?  The man who has named himself Lord Voldemort is certainly not the young and eager Tom Riddle who first came to Hogwarts.  But that is not my point.  Surely you do not wish to become a terror to the entire wizarding world."  Dumbledore sighed.  "I was hoping I would not have to do this but you need it - that much is obvious."

"Do what?" Harry asked apprehensively.

"I will tell you more later.  First, you must work on your Occlumency.  You need at least _some_ skill before you can visit," said Dumbledore

"Visit where?"

"I will tell you once your Occlumency is improved.  There are reasons, Harry," Dumbledore told him, his eyes not twinkling but misty, as though he was recalling the past.

"There are _always_ reasons!" burst out Harry angrily.  "But _nothing_ is ever explained until we've worked it all out!"  

Dumbledore didn't seem to hear him.  As Harry was about to repeat himself, the headmaster asked, "Would you like to start your Occlumency today?"

Harry hesitated at first but then shrugged.  "May as well, Professor."

"Very well."

Without warning, Dumbledore struck.  

_A flash of green light._

_"It is too late, you understand me?"_

_'…has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry'_

_"No one lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you"_

Harry tried to push Dumbledore away, but to no avail.  The wizard continued to shuffle through his memories, ignoring Harry's attempts to escape.

_"How did you survive?" _

_"There's nothing you can do, Harry… nothing … he's gone."_

_"Me. I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter."_

_"Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts."_

_"I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as – as – abnormal"_

_"Sirius Black.  'Course 'e was on the muggle news, Neville.  Where you been?"_

_"MORSMORDRE!"_

_"Insane, Mad…"_

If only he could find a weakness.  Suddenly, something was different.  Something had surprised Dumbledore, leaving a crack in his defences.  

Harry hesitated for only a second before striking at the gap, trying to push away from the invading presence.  He blinked and was surprised to discover he was no longer scrolling through his memories but instead standing in the kitchen, pointing his wand at Dumbledore – a Dumbledore whose legs were dancing of their own accord.  His eyes twinkling, he performed the counter-curse on himself, not speaking until his feet were standing still.

"Congratulations, Harry," he said quietly.  "But you need to be able to do that straight away – and without having to curse your adversary.  When you have perfected Occlumency you should see anything at all, but simply remain where you are."

Harry nodded.  "Should I try again?"

"No.  You need to eat.  You didn't have breakfast before coming to see me, did you?"  Dumbledore shook his head.  "No matter.  Harry, practise every night.  Professor Snape explained how, I believe?"

Harry nodded again.

"Well, just remember to practice."

Suddenly there was a loud crash, sounding as if it came from upstairs.  Harry walked over to the kitchen door cautiously, wondering what had caused such a racket.  Poking his head out the door, he winced as all the noise came in full volume.  If he came back within the kitchen all was quiet, but of he ventured out, the noise was overwhelming.  He could hear Mrs. Black's screeching and wailing, along with all the other portraits as well as shouting that sounded like some of the Order members.

Harry walked up the stairs, towards the source of the commotion.  When he reached the top of the stairs, he saw Ginny arguing with George.  Ginny had George at wand point and was yelling at him furiously.  Harry moved towards them carefully, ready to dodge any hexes that might come flying towards him.  

"Ginny?  George?  What's going on?" Harry asked, still prepared to duck or jump aside if necessary.

"This – This – _idiot_, he and his – his – idiot of a brother planted all their trick candy at the Order table" shouted Ginny angrily.  "And of _course_ everyone ate it – well, everyone except Moody and now they're all giant birds and – and lobsters and other creatures that my brother's utterly _demented _minds came up with."

"Okay.  Ginny, calm down," Harry said, trying to do exactly that. 

"CALM DOWN?" she exploded.  "He did the bat bogey curse!"

"So?" asked Harry, getting more confused as the conversation continued, 

"SO?  SO?" Ginny shrieked.  "Mum thinks I'm the only one who can do that curse!  Why, I don't know but I do know that I'll get the blame!"

"Does she get like this a lot?" Harry asked George quietly.

"You have no idea," he replied fervently.

Harry turned to Ginny.  One look at her face told him all he needed to know.  Turning back to George, he shrugged.

"Sorry, but I've got to be going.  Bye," said Harry, avoiding George's glances for help.  He walked away as fast as he dared, painfully aware of his unprotected back.  Just as he rounded a corner and breathed a sigh of relief, he ran into Ron.

"Harry!  I've been looking for you," said Ron breathlessly.  "You've got to see this."

"See what?" asked Harry curiously.

"The Order!  Fred and George played some sort of trick on them – they're all different animals," said Ron excitedly.

"I know, I met Ginny on the stairs.  She looks like she's about to kill the twins."

Ron shrugged.  "I wouldn't worry; she's always like that for some reason or another.  Come _on_, they're going to work out how to get the spell off soon."

"Fine."

Harry followed Ron over to the dining room, where an astounding spectacle met his eyes.  Instead of the Order of the Phoenix sitting orderly around the table, it was a menagerie.  Above the table, large green and slimy _things _were flying around.  Harry grimaced – he didn't want to even _think_ about what they might be.  Even so, he stared in wonder at the chaos Fred and George had managed to cause.  As he was gawking at the scene, Fred came up behind him.

"You like it?" he asked, grinning broadly.

"It's amazing," answered Harry.  "But Ginny is ready to kill you.  She's probably finished with George by now."

"Oh," said Fred.  "I suppose I'm supposed to save him?"

"I think that's the general idea," replied Harry, grinning just as broadly as Fred.

Fred walked off, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, "I swear, she's turning into Mum."

Harry shook his head.  He was watching the Order, smiling faintly, when Ron tapped him on the shoulder.

"We better get out of here," Ron said quietly, although he was grinning too.  "They're starting to turn back.  See," he said, pointing, "the lobster is getting a human hand again.  I doubt they're going to worry about who _really_ did it."

"You're right," said Harry regretfully.  "We better go."

They turned and began walking towards the stairs.  Just before they rounded the corner, they heard a shrieked "_RONALD WEASLEY!_"

The boys looked at each other and immediately started running.

"Just don't look back," panted Ron.  "They can't blame us… can they?"


	5. The Mirror

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to him or his story. Anything you recognise, I probably don't own.**

**Times Past**

**Chapter 4**

Once the Order had been returned to their normal species, life progressed rather normally at Grimmauld Place. Harry was having regular Occlumency lessons with Dumbledore and progressing quickly, perhaps because this year he truly wanted to learn. However, no matter how hard he tried he couldn't block Dumbledore out completely. The old wizard always found a weakness and slipped in easily. Although Harry knew he was facing one of the most powerful wizards ever, he was getting frustrated when he failed to do what was wanted every lesson.

Harry put this out of his mind and turned to face Dumbledore. The next lesson was about to begin and so he concentrated on doing what he had been taught, schooling his emotions and calming his thoughts. As usual, Dumbledore struck without warning. Harry could sense him, in a strange sort of way – none of the usual six senses were involved at all.

Harry began to feel triumphant, for normally Dumbledore would be past his defences by now. Quickly, before it could stand out he pushed the triumph back, becoming calm and blank once more.

They stood like this for around five minutes, the professor and the student facing off, never breaking eye contact. Abruptly, Dumbledore began talking. His subject varied, from the grave matters of the Order of the Phoenix to how he was hoping for sunny weather on his next holiday. Harry ignored him. The words weren't important and so, he let them wash over him, letting his mouth automatically add small comments – "mhm-hm" and "okay." Eventually Dumbledore signalled and Harry let down his wall, grinning hugely.

"That was very good, Harry," said Dumbledore, smiling happily. "Congratulations. I _would_ award you house points, but, alas, it is not yet the school term. "

"Thank-you, sir," said Harry. _I did it. But… now what?_ "Professor? Before I started, you said something about a journey – or visiting somewhere or something. And you said I couldn't know more until I'd learnt Occlumency. Does that mean I can know now?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I suppose so. When your parents were in sixth year our regular Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Desidus, took a year off to travel around the world, visit other schools and so on. When he came back he was considerably inspired and went on to teach for another seven years."

"Um, Professor? What does that have to do with this?" asked Harry, wondering if the Headmaster's mind had wandered off to somewhere else.

"Let me finish, Harry," said Dumbledore sternly. "As I was saying, obviously we needed another Defence teacher. It took a while, as it was difficult to find someone on such short notice, but eventually we found a teacher, one of the youngest professors ever. Professor Harry Granger."

Harry looked up, shocked. "One of Hermione's relatives taught at Hogwarts?"

"No, no. Keep listening. It was only when your father reached his seventh year that the resemblance truly struck me. James looked _amazingly_ like Professor Granger had. Or, as I realised recently, Professor Granger resembled James. Can you see where this is going?"

Harry shook his head, utterly confused. _A teacher who looks like my Dad and has Hermione's last name just turned up at Hogwarts? Weird._

Dumbledore sighed. "After teaching for one year, Professor Granger disappeared. All attempts to find him have failed, although I have suspected for some time he is right under our noses." Dumbledore stared at Harry, as if he was about to start another Occlumency lesson. "Only one thing remained. The letter that had prompted me to accept him as a teacher in the first place. Don't you see, Harry? Professor Granger was not from our place or, as I now know, our time."

Harry gaped at the headmaster. _Now _it was falling into place. Harry Granger had come from another time to teach at Hogwarts. And who would look exactly like James Potter? Why, of course, his son, whose friend's muggle name would not be recognisable in the wizarding world.

Dumbledore watched him gravely. "I see you have figured it out."

"But… why now?" asked Harry.

"Recently one of my friends – an inventor in fact – created a way to travel between long periods of time. Time turners will only go back a couple of hours at most and so, are not usually _too_ damaging. However, in going back to your parent's time, you must remember many things, the most important being, of course, not to tell _anyone _what will happen to them. So now the question is: Do you want to go?"

Harry blinked. Of _course_ he wanted to go. But - to see them like that and not be able to warn them, to see them treating _Wormtail_ as a friend… he would cope. Harry could tell that if he didn't go he would regret it all of his life. He nodded.

"And you will not tell them anything?"

"No, sir."

"Good, good. Here is your aging potion – you will still look similar to James, but not nearly as much. It lasts for about eight hours, so remember to drink it again when you need to. Once you have everything packed, come and see me."

"Er… Professor? Am I the only one going?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Currently, the spell only works for one person. Now go pack," said Dumbledore.

"Yes, Professor." Harry walked out of the kitchen and headed up to his bedroom. The packing didn't take long as, although he had been there more than a week, most of his belongings were still in his trunk. Just as he was packing the last few things, Ron came in.

"You're packing?" he asked. "Why?"

Harry hesitated. What was he supposed to tell Ron and Hermione? "Er…"

"Well?" asked Ron impatiently. "Why are you packing?"

Harry shrugged noncommittally, his mind racing. Why hadn't he asked Dumbledore how much he could tell his friends?

Um…" This wasn't working. Casting caution to the wind, Harry decided it would be better just to tell them now, rather than have them constantly asking about where he was going.

"Okay," said Harry, "I'll tell you. Just get Hermione first – I don't want to have to explain twice. It's rather… complicated."

Ron shrugged and walked over to the door, where he stuck his head out and yelled, "_Hermione!_"

Harry blinked. While not exactly what he had meant, Ron's shout had the desired effect, for after about a minute, Hermione had arrived at Harry's room.

"What?" she asked, glaring at Ron.

"Harry's gonna tell us where he's going. Unless of course you don't want to know…" Here Ron trailed off, looking at her quizzically. Hermione ignored him.

"You're going somewhere?" she asked, watching Harry carefully. "When? Where? Does Dumbledore know? _Why_?"

"Just let me explain," said Harry, trying to get in before Hermione could get fully started. Harry took a deep breath and began.

"I'm packing to go to Hogwarts."

"But we're not going back for another two weeks," interrupted Hermione, still watching Harry as if he was about to jump out the window.

"Let me finish," said Harry, exasperatedly. Quickly he outlined what Dumbledore had told him. Once he had finished Ron looked as though he thought Harry was making it all up and Hermione was scrutinising him closely.

"But, Harry," she said slowly, "time travel is almost illegal. I _told_ you what McGonagall had to go through to get me the time turner in third year."

Harry shrugged.

"Since when does Dumbledore worry about rules?" asked Ron, looking at Hermione as if she was mad. "If he wants to do something, I don't think the Ministry's going to be able to stop him."

Hermione frowned, then nodded.

"And I had to learn Occlumency first," said Harry, eager to press his advantage. "That's why Dumbledore's only letting me go now – he says I've mastered it."

"Well, you must have gone back before," said Hermione. "I suppose that if you didn't go now, you'd be changing the past."

"Something like that," agreed Harry, glad he had been able to explain everything. He'd only just realized that once he was in the past he wouldn't be able to talk to Ron and Hermione until he arrived back. Ron wouldn't be there to cheer him up; there would be no Hermione to work everything out. As he was pondering this, Hermione suddenly sat up. Muttering something, she ran out of Harry's room, towards her own.

"What happened there?" Harry asked Ron, bewildered.

"She said she was getting something," replied Ron, looking almost as confused as Harry. Simultaneously, they shrugged.

****

After a couple of minutes, Hermione returned, clutching a small package. Ignoring the strange looks she was receiving from Harry and Ron, she set it down on the bed.

"Uh, Hermione," said Harry. "What's in the package?"

"Open it," she replied, watching him with worried eyes.

Harry did so, to find a strangely familiar mirror. He looked at Hermione, to find her holding another of the mirrors, one that was exactly the same as the one he had just been given. Still confused, he wondered absently what they were.

"What is it?" Ron asked, just before Harry voiced the same question.

"Well, you know how Harry won't be able to speak to us or anyone from the present while he's back then? I think the mirrors might still work."

While Hermione was explaining, Harry inspected the mirror. Suddenly, it struck him. The mirror was the one he had been given by Sirius – the mirror he had later destroyed.

"So, you're saying that I'll still be able to talk to you?" said Harry, desperately trying to ignore the memories the mirror provoked.

"Yes," replied Hermione. "I'm _fairly_ sure it'll work – the only thing we can do is try, though."

"But… I _broke_ it."

"And I fixed it," said Hermione briskly. "_Reparo _can work wonders. I thought you might want to take it with you, when you go."

"Where'd you find –"Harry paused, trying to force the name out, "Sirius' mirror?"

"We found it while we were cleaning," said Hermione, now speaking carefully and avoiding Harry's eyes. "I think it was Ginny who actually came across it."

"Oh," said Harry. Pushing aside the mess of emotion mentioning Sirius always brought up, he glanced at Ron, who was looking at the mirrors as though they were dangerous. Hermione followed his line of sight, and soon saw Ron's expression too.

"Ron?" she asked. "What's wrong with the mirrors?"

Ron shrugged before saying, "Fred and George used to have ones like it. They'd leave it sitting under the kitchen table – or somewhere else where you can't see it – and then they'd shoot spells out of it at everyone. We all learned to duck, very fast," he added quickly, grinning slightly.

Harry grinned back, trying to conceal his nervousness. Checking his watch he said, "I better go now. Dumbledore wanted to see me at three o'clock."

Hermione nodded, while Ron began to look curious. "Harry," he asked, "how long will you be gone? I mean, will you just appear back seconds after you left, or will you be gone for the whole year?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. Suppose I'll find out soon though."

"Good luck, Harry," said Hermione earnestly. "Just have fun."

"I'll try," said Harry.

Dumbledore sighed. Perhaps he should have told Harry everything about what he had to do but, while it was in his past, it was still Harry's future and so must not be tampered with. Resolved, Dumbledore set himself to do what he must, the one thing Voldemort would not expect.

**I'd just like to say thanks to my reviewers: guesswho (fi), Siri Kat, juggling stars, Tanya J Potter, sweethoneyno1, babyjayy, VEronica, Tatra Megami, Lil Miss Potter, Maisha, star estrella, Khenna, Jude, Nagini Animagrus, o0o FeBrEeZe o0o, the boot and boredanddelirious.**


	6. An Odd Meeting & The Defence Job

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to him or his story. Anything you recognise, I probably don't own.**

**Times Past**

**Chapter 5**

Harry dragged his trunk down to where he would meet Dumbledore pensively. Until Hermione had handed him that mirror, he hadn't really thought about the fact that he wouldn't be able to see his friends for an entire year. Summers were bad enough, when he was unable to talk to them – he wasn't sure how he would cope for an entire year.

"Hello, Harry," said Dumbledore, as the Gryffindor heaved his trunk through the doorway. "I suppose you're ready?"

"Yes, Professor," answered Harry quietly, still wrapped up in thoughts of Ron and Hermione. _I'm still in the same house as them_, he thought angrily, anything to ignore the loneliness that was already starting to set in.

"Alright then. Here is the device – it is called a Deporro. I've already set it to 1976, August 20th. It is also set to take you to just outside Hogsmeade, near the Shrieking Shack. Once you arrive it will automatically set itself to five minutes after the time now, so –" he peered at his watch. "You should get back at around four past three."

Dumbledore smiled, before handing over the Deporro and a sealed envelope. Carefully, Harry took them, surprised at the Deporro's lack of weight. Although it looked as if it was made of metal, it weighed almost nothing – Harry was sure that if he let it go it would remain floating in the air. The Deporro looked a bit like Hermione's time turner, yet slightly more modern. It was two overlapping hourglasses, placed within a circle of silver metal. On the silver ring was a thinner golden circle, which looked as if it could be moved. Harry reached out a hand to touch it, before pulling back – who knew what a magical object could do?

"To use it, just twist the hourglasses so that they are on top of each other. That will take you to the date shown on the outer ring. The letter is the one that I received from Professor Granger – the letter that convinced me to accept him," Dumbledore explained.

Harry looked at the Deporro scrutinisingly. If he squinted, he could just see a slight indent that could be writing on the rings. However, if he tried to focus on a particular part it soon faded away, leaving what looked like blank metal.

"Are you ready?" asked Dumbledore gently.

Harry shrugged, before grasping the Deporro with both hands. Cautiously, he pushed the two hourglasses together, until they were almost overlapping. With one last look at Grimmauld Place, he pushed them together, bracing himself for a portkey-like sensation, closing his eyes involuntarily. When nothing happened, he opened them and looked around curiously. He was no longer in Grimmauld Place, but, instead, was standing on a hill, near a broken down house. Harry recognised it immediately as the Shrieking Shack - obviously, the Deporro had taken him where it was supposed to, but had it taken him to the right time?

Slipping the device into his pocket, he levitated his trunk behind him and then walked down the hill towards Hogsmeade, searching for something that could show him the date. Eventually he found an old Daily Prophet lying on the ground. Harry picked it up, half-dreading of what he would see. Pulling himself together, he scanned the page, searching for the telltale date. Finally, he found it. _Sunday, August 15th, 1976_.

It had worked. In truth, Harry didn't know what to think – after all, he would be seeing his parents and Sirius, as well as Lupin and Wormtail. Harry pushed those thoughts aside; he would deal with the Marauders later.

Reaching the main part of Hogsmeade, Harry wandered into The Three Broomsticks. Sitting down, he gestured to a much younger Madame Rosmerta, who finished with the customer she was serving and walked over.

"So, young Potter," she said. "What would you like today?"

Harry, who was about to simply order a Butterbeer, paused. She had called him 'Potter'. How could she know? Harry shook his head.

"My name is not Potter," said Harry slowly. "I'm Harry Granger."

"Really?" Rosmerta asked, looking interested. "Oh yes, I see, you _do_ look a bit different. But, honestly, you could pass for James Potter's twin!"

"I assure you, I have never met this… James Potter?" _After all_, thought Harry, _it's true_. "I was actually wondering if you rented out rooms. I need somewhere to stay for a week or so."

Madam Rosmerta looked at him strangely. Harry ignored her – it was probably just thanks to his resemblance to his father. "I've got a few rooms upstairs," she said, "they cost 10 gallons a night. Would you like me to show you to one?"

Harry hesitated. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea to stay so close to Hogwarts. Shrugging it off – after all, Trelawney had stayed at the Hog's Head – he nodded as she gestured towards the stairs. Standing up, he followed her upstairs, where she showed him to a room. It was a well-made room, rather similar to where he had stayed in The Leaky Cauldron. Thanking Madame Rosmerta, he gave her the 10 gallons, before flopping down on the bed. In truth, he wasn't sure if he could believe that he was really here. Being about to see Sirius again seemed too good to be true. And to meet his parents… he couldn't wait.

Thinking about this reminded him of his friends, and the mirror. It would be good to talk to them, to find out what they thought. Harry walked over to his trunk and rummaged through it until he found the mirror – as well as the aging potion. He pulled them both out and held it in front of his face, trying to remember how to work the mirror, before considering the potion. Harry grinned. Maybe first he could take the potion. Before he could change his mind, he drank from the little bottle. Almost immediately, he felt like he had just had a massive growth spurt within thirty seconds. He looked into the mirror, grinning when he saw his new appearance. Quickly, he put the potion away, looked back at mirror, and said clearly, "Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley."

Immediately, the mirror fogged up. Harry went to wipe it clean, but before he could touch it, it was completely clear of any mist. However, instead of Hermione or Ron, someone else's face was in the mirror. A face that looked eerily like Harry's…

"Sirius? Why didn't you just use the fireplace? You _know_ the more we use these the better chance we have of getting caught." Finally, James caught sight of Harry's face. "Hold on, you're not Sirius. What've you done with him?" James shouted, pulling out his wand and aiming it at the mirror.

Harry blinked. Even if he had expected to meet his father instead of Ron or Hermione, this wasn't how he would have expected it to go. They would have been surprised at first, but soon would have started talking and become friends. It wouldn't have begun with James accusing Harry of kidnapping his best friend. As Harry saw James open his mouth to say a curse, he quickly said, "Wait, there's been a mistake. I haven't–"

"Stupefy!" yelled James. Immediately, Harry dropped the mirror, although he wasn't even sure if the jinx would make it through; After all, it never hurt to be careful, especially when milliseconds later there was a hole in the roof. Warily, Harry picked up the mirror, keeping it angled towards the roof. If he looked carefully, he could see the surface of mirror – now blank, nothing more than an inoffensive looking glass.

Harry sighed. Not only was he unable to talk with any of his friends, it was likely he had also biased his own father against him, perhaps irreversibly. All he could do was hope that he wouldn't be recognised at Hogwarts, by James or anyone else. Anyone else? Who else would be able to guess? Harry pushed the thought aside and surveyed the hole in the roof. He certainly couldn't just leave it there for Madam Rosmerta to find.

"Reparo?" said Harry uncertainly, pointing his wand at the hole. It made a half-hearted attempt to close over, before settling at almost the same size as it was originally. Harry glared at it. "_Reparo_!" Immediately, the hole closed over, leaving a patch of ceiling that looked newer than all the rest. Harry shrugged. There was only so much he could do – and at least the rain wouldn't get in.

Grinning, Harry rolled into bed. Tomorrow he would go see Dumbledore, and apply for the Defence job. Tomorrow… he would be back at Hogwarts.

After avoiding Madam Rosmerta's questions about all the noise coming from his room, Harry had set off towards Hogwarts, using the secret passage in Honeydukes since he wasn't sure how to get to the school and had been given at least seven different sets of directions. Harry slipped into the sweetshop, and then down into the passage in the storerooms. Walking along, he tried to work out what he would tell Dumbledore – as well as what could be in the letter. As he was about to give in to his curiosity he came to the end of the tunnel and climbed out of the statue. Brushing himself off, he turned and began walking towards Dumbledore's office.

"Hey! Who're you?" A far too familiar voice came from behind Harry. He turned back, towards the direction of the voice.

"I am Harry Po- Granger," said Harry, cursing himself for stuttering over his name. Watching Filch, he continued. "I was told there was a vacancy for the Defence Against the Dark Arts job. Would you happen to know where I could find the headmaster?"

"Here," said Dumbledore. Harry grinned inwardly. Why had he even considered making it into the school without Dumbledore knowing? "What was it you wanted? I'm afraid I missed the first part."

Harry calmed himself – it never hurt to be prepared – before answering. "I am here to apply for the Defence job."

Dumbledore looked at him shrewdly. "Well then, I suppose you had better follow me. Thank you Argus."

Quickly, the old wizard walked off, with Harry following behind. As they walked, Dumbledore ignored Harry, as if the latter no longer existed. Eventually they reached the gargoyle, looking as ugly as ever. Dumbledore faced it and said "Cockroach Cluster." Harry grinned. Obviously, some things never changed. The gargoyle stepped aside, and Dumbledore gestured for Harry to go up ahead of him. Harry did, very aware of Dumbledore's eyes on his back. Finally, they entered the office. As Harry stepped through the doorway, he could immediately tell he was being watched. For once, all the portraits were awake, and all were scrutinising Harry with suspicion, although none more so than Phineas Nigellus.

"Sit down," said Dumbledore sharply, jerking Harry out of his reverie. "Firstly, what is your name?"

"I'm Harry Granger, sir," replied Harry, relieved he hadn't stuttered as he had with Filch.

"And how old are you? You don't look a day over sixteen." Dumbledore and the portraits watched him carefully, as if they could tell whether he was lying just by looking.

"Seventeen actually. And a couple of weeks." Harry forced himself to remain calm – he'd have no chance otherwise. "My… friend, who told me about the job, asked me to give you this." Harry pulled the letter out of his pocket and handed it to Dumbledore. The headmaster took it and read it silently, while Harry focused on his emotions. To let them out now would be to invite disaster.

"It says here that you practice Occlumency. Is this true?"

"Yes," said Harry, but before he could finish, Dumbledore attacked. Harry remained as calm as he could, reminding himself that if the present Dumbledore was unable to breach his defences, a younger Dumbledore would have no chance. He could feel Dumbledore's thoughts, but resisted the urge to strike back – it wouldn't do him any good to anger the headmaster when he first met him.

Finally, Dumbledore stopped pushing at Harry's barriers. "Would you just step outside for a minute?"

Harry nodded and did as such. He sat down on the stairs, wondering what Dumbledore would be doing. As he waited, Harry played through the worst-case scenarios in his mind. Before Harry could get too depressed, the door opened, revealing Dumbledore, whose eyes, for once, were slightly dim.

"Well," he said, "You're hired… Professor Granger."

**Thanks to my reviewers: Mikito, babyjayy, kiwiknight, spottery, minnie-mae, anonomous, boredanddelirious, PrOnGs Da GrEaT, juggling stars, Siri Kat, Itty bitty evil kitty of doom and goddess of darkness3.**


	7. Strange Similarities

**Times Past**

**Chapter 6**

Albus Dumbledore stared at the letter, still trying to decide what it was about – and what to do about it. Although the writer hadn't given a name, there was more than enough information to go by. The boy wasn't in Voldemort's pay, Dumbledore was sure of this, but even if he was, he was the only applicant for the job. Dumbledore had been forced to accept him, even though it was against his better judgement. Carefully, he folded the letter and placed it in a draw. By now, he could remember the words easily, to the point that the letter was no longer necessary. However, something prompted him to keep it, even if only to have something to compare Granger with.

Dumbledore closed his eyes, and saw the words of the letter swimming before blackness.

_Dear Professor,_

_I realise this is extremely unorthodox, but I must stress the importance of allowing Harry Granger to have the position of Defence against the Dark Arts professor. Even though is young, I myself have been training him in Occlumency, and would not have sent him if he was not what he is now – a true Occlumens, who is at least as skilled as you yourself. While I realise that you would prefer to know as much as possible about your teachers, you must understand that Harry has secrets that not even you will discover – at least not while he is teaching at Hogwarts. Although it may seem odd, having Harry teaching is vital to the safety of the school and students for this year. I can only beg you to consider this letter and its contents carefully before making your decision._

_Sincerely,_

_A Friend_

He shook his head. No matter what the mysterious writer of the letter said, it wouldn't hurt to look up some background information on Harry Granger. After all, the Ministry kept records of all witches and wizards – whether they were muggle-born or pureblood, whether they had an ancestry of squibs and similar information. Although Dumbledore didn't necessarily agree with the reasons given for the files, he had discovered they came in handy if he needed to know something quickly, without too much fuss. However, it was odd how none of the former heads of the school had recognized the name – most of them knew many people both in and out of Hogwarts, although, admittedly, not many of their acquaintances were still alive. Having made up his mind, Dumbledore began to write his letter to the Ministry.

James Potter wandered through the train, trying to find his friend's compartment. After interrupting no less than five different groups, he finally found two of his friends – Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. However, the fourth member of their group, Sirius Black, was nowhere to be seen.

"'Lo," said James urgently. "Have any of you seen Padfoot yet?"

Remus shook his head. "No."

"But he's usually late," interrupted Peter. "And there's still ten, fifteen minutes 'til the train leaves. What's the matter?"

James looked at them both anxiously. For various reasons, he and Sirius had never gotten around to telling the other two about the mirrors. "Well…"

"James, what is it?" asked Remus, watching him carefully. "If something has happened to Sirius, we deserve to know."

James glanced at them guiltily. "It's just that, well, I haven't been able to contact him for a week or so. And… I'm getting worried."

Peter stared at James apprehensively. When James got upset, other people also ended up getting upset, although for different reasons. Luckily, as Remus was about to say something else, the compartment door opened. James immediately shot off a hex in that direction; this wasn't a time when he wanted to be interrupted. However, the newcomer quickly cast a shield charm, knocking the hex back at James, who didn't look up until it gave him a beautiful set of boils.

"Thanks for that, James," said Sirius dryly, entering the compartment. "Soon as I get away from my beloved family, my friends are happy to use me for target practice."

"Sirius? You're okay?" asked James, still doubtful –. After all, _someone_ had gotten Sirius' mirror, and it was hardly something he would just give away. "You've still got… everything?"

Sirius looked at James oddly. "Everything? Such as…"

James glared at Sirius. So much for not saying anything about the mirrors. "Particularly the mirror. Do you have it?"

Sirius nodded slowly, as Remus and Peter exchanged confused glances. "As far as I know, yes," he said, completely perplexed as to what James was getting at. "Why?"

"Just check," replied James. Sirius shrugged, and reached into his trunk. After a while, he brought out a plain looking mirror,

"See?" said Sirius, waving it around. "Now, why wouldn't I have had it?"

"More to the point," said Peter, "what is it?"

James sighed. He had hoped to avoid this, although, looking back, it was difficult to see how. "Okay, look," he said. "A couple of years ago, Sirius and I got these mirrors. They let you talk to whoever has the other one, without any interference. But then, around last week, I ended up talking to someone else on the mirror."

Sirius frowned. "Is that even possible?" he asked, ignoring James' glare. "I'm sure they're made in pairs, meaning that only your mirror can access my mirror and vice versa."

Remus nodded, joining the conversation. "That seems about right. Otherwise you'd always end up talking to someone else who had one of these mirrors."

"I know that," said James in frustration. "But I _did_ talk to someone else through the mirror. It was strange though, he looked rather similar to me."

Sirius burst out laughing. "Y'know James," he said, "I reckon you were talking with your reflection."

James glared at Sirius again. "Similar, not identical. His eyes were green and he looked older. Anyway, I tried to hex him, but I think he dropped the mirror."

Sirius shrugged. "I doubt it's anything to worry about. Look, forget about and just point him out if you ever see him again, okay?" Sirius put the mirror back into his trunk and pulled out a deck of cards. "So, who's up for a game of Exploding Snap?"

Harry picked half-heartedly at his food. While the meal looked delicious, there was no way that Harry could have eaten. Today was the day that the students arrived; today he would be able to see _them_ again. Despite this – of perhaps because of – Harry had refused to go to the feast. Although the students had not yet arrived, Harry had locked himself in his room, to ensure no other faculty members tried to convince him to go. Reluctantly, he looked at the food, trying to convince himself to eat it. Suddenly, Harry choked on nothing. Dumbledore had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

"What?" asked Harry, completely bewildered as to where Dumbledore had come from.

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes having regained their customary twinkle. "You _are_ coming to the feast, are you not?"

Harry shook his head, and prepared to explain why. However, before he could begin, Dumbledore continued. "After all, you need to be there so that I can introduce you to the students."

Once again, Harry began to protest. "But-"

"I'm glad I was able to explain matters to you," said Dumbledore, apparently unaware of Harry's plight. As suddenly as he had arrived, he disappeared, leaving Harry talking to an empty room.

Harry sighed, before turning back to his meal. He wouldn't be able to eat it now and, even if he could, there wouldn't be any point. At the feast, he would be swamped with food – if he were able to eat it and ignore the young, yet familiar faces that would be filling the hall in front of him.

Before he had even finished considering this, Harry found himself moving the food to one side, already accepting that he would go to the feast. After all, he would have to face _them_ eventually and it would probably be better to be able to observe them from a distance before actually having to teach them.

With this in mind, Harry prepared to go to the feast, reminding himself that he must not treat Wormtail any differently from the rest of them; he must sit and watch as they are _friends_ with their betrayer.

Not long after Harry had arrived in the Hall, the students began wandering in, all of them chatting animatedly.

Once they were finally settled, the first years entered, looking nervous and generally trying to make themselves look smaller than they actually were. Harry watched as McGonagall carefully placed the Sorting Hat on its stool, trying not to laugh at the relieved expressions on the faces of many of the first years. After a few moments, the hat opened its mouth and began to sing.

_So you are now at Hogwarts,  
__A school of great repute.  
__To learn the ways of magic,  
__And understand to boot._

_But first, you must be split  
__Into the houses four  
__By way of your abilities  
__Which will be brought to fore._

_You could belong in Slytherin  
__With cunning, pureblood friends.  
__You might end up in Ravenclaw  
__Where wit controls the ends._

_You could feel right in Hufflepuff,  
__The house that's loyal and true.  
__You might fit in in Gryffindor,  
__Where bravery runs right through._

_So now that you have heard this  
__Prepare to be amazed  
__For as soon as you are sorted  
__Your life is rearranged!_

The hall clapped, although Harry could see that some of the first years weren't particularly happy about their life apparently beingrearranged. Once the clapping stopped, McGonagall unrolled the sheet of parchment and began calling names.

"Aaron, Melissa."

Harry let his mind drift as the first years were sorted. After searching the Gryffindor table for a while, he had finally found what he was looking for. Near the end of the table were people he recognised – four boys, paying almost no attention to the sorting, but seemed to be discussing something in whispers. Harry clapped absently as Gabbage, Ophelia was sorted into Ravenclaw, before he returned to watching the four friends. Now they were laughing, painfully unaware of their fates – that by the time Harry was sixteen, two of them would be dead, one a traitor, and the last of them left alone.

Finally, the sorting ended with Ulag, Minh, being sorted into Gryffindor. Harry turned towards Dumbledore, as the headmaster began to speak.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts," he said, his eyes seeming to stare at everyone at once. "Before the feast begins I would like to introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Granger. He is here for this year only, to fill in for Professor Desidus, who has decided to take a short break."

The students clapped dutifully, some watching Harry curiously, others uninterested. Harry continued to watch his father and his friends, but although he looked carefully, was unable to see his mother.

Soon, the applause died away and Dumbledore began speaking again, his face serious.

"As many of you are aware, a threat has risen against the wizarding world as we know it. It is possible that your parents would not wish for you to know this yet, that they would like you to be kept in the dark for as long as possible, however, I feel that you must be told. This wizard, who has named himself Lord Voldemort –" Dumbledore paused, frowning slightly at those who had started, "is becoming stronger. If we shelter you completely at Hogwarts, you will probably not be ready for what will face you when you graduate."

Harry blinked. Even though he'd known Voldemort's first rise had been sometime around his parent's years at Hogwarts, he'd never expected _this_ when he arrived. He glanced towards the four friends before a frown formed on his face and he turned back to Dumbledore, listening attentively. Perhaps this way he could figure out what was going on in this time.

Remus watched the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher – Professor Granger – suspiciously. All throughout the feast, he'd been sneaking glances at them – even watching openly for a while. "Hey," said Remus, "has anyone else noticed that the new teacher has been watching us a lot?"

Sirius looked at him in disbelief. "Moony, how can you tell he was looking at us specifically? He could be looking at anyone on this table."

Remus shrugged. It was more a feeling than anything; the few glances he had caught could have simply been coincidence. Interested, Peter turned to watch Granger as well.

"Y'know," he said, squinting slightly, "he looks sort of familiar. I can't quite figure why though."

Remus looked at Peter, startled, before turning back towards Granger. "You're right," he said in surprise. He looked closer, trying to place the resemblance. It came and went, depending a lot on the angle of Granger's head. Remus shook his head and turned to ask James and Sirius if they could work out whom Granger was so similar to. However, as soon as he saw James, he blinked and looked back to Granger. Glancing back and forth, it was hard to see how he had missed it. Quickly he nudged Peter. "Look at James, then Granger," he whispered, trying to avoid attracting James' attention. Confused, Peter did so; he gasped, his head swinging between the two almost comically. Although they weren't identical, they were still amazingly similar – from what they could see, Granger seemed to be the image of James in a year or two.

"Is that just coincidence?" whispered Peter, still entranced by the resemblance. Remus shrugged, just as fascinated.

"Dunno. James would have told us if one of his relatives was coming to teach at Hogwarts, wouldn't he?"

Peter shrugged back and turned to listen to Dumbledore. His friend sighed, before returning to the puzzle. If Granger _was_ a relative, Remus was sure James would have mentioned it but even though he hadn't _surely _their looks had to be more than coincidence. Perhaps he was a distant relative to James – someone who didn't keep in contact with that particular branch of the family. Glancing between them once more, Remus reminded himself to ask James about it once they were back in the dormitories.

* * *

**Thanks to my reviewers: fi,** **babyjayy, Vanderleigh, Kristie, anonomous, Dadaiiro, spottery, GwEnDoLyN P. MaLfOy, boredanddelirious, Siri Kat, phoebe666, padfootfan821, stefanie2, juggling stars, grumpy, hermoine21, Pline, sumranddumprson, HanyouToni, hye em yes, spectra2, Phoenix of Mysticality, moonypadfoot, and Yuki no Yatsu.**

**Hey everyone, I'm so sorry about how long this took. Hopefully updates will be coming quicker now - I think so anyway. And so, so, so many thanks to the people who put me on their favourites list. Thank-you so much! (I feeling very uneloquent).**

**By the way, does anyone know what has happened to get rid of formatting things - like the three asteriks which don't work anymore - and make it all weird? ETA: I've got it working now :)**


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